Up In Arms
by Angel of Fate
Summary: Response to an old, old CJ challenge. But it has bras, body desserts and whole lotta fun. Not unlike Led Zeppelin has a whole lotta love.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I, for all intent purposes, am in no way, nor would I like to be (despite what other disclaimers may have implied) associated with _Crossing Jordan_.

**Author's Note: **Wow, okay, so this has been kicking around my computer (USB drive if you want to get technical) for literally ages. Like, since the summer. That long. It was in response to a challenge posted at the coffeeroom board (I'll post the rules/guidelines at the end of this chapter) and I believe the deadline was something like Labor Day if that gives you any indication on how old this thing is. But as I was posting a chapter to another story today, I thought, what the heck? It's just sitting around collecting imaginary dust anyway.

So I give you a new story that I don't really intend to finish, but may, if so moved to do so. It's just a kind of fun quirky fic (with slight angst, because you've got to have the angst) that hasn't really piqued my interest as of late, but thought y'all might enjoy!

Oh and cyber cookies to whoever can guess the two _Stand By Me _references in the two chapters. One is quite obvious, one a little more subtle.

**Up In Arms**

**Woody's Apartment, 1830 2A Murray Avenue. **

**2:13 am.**

The rain splashed lightly off the windowsill outside the bedroom. She could hear the slow drops through the drawn curtain and over his steady, labored breathing. Jordan could listen to the rain for hours as long as he lay beside her. He didn't know that of course, and she fully intended to keep it that way. If feelings somehow got involved in whatever it was they were playing at, it could get pretty messy. And right now Jordan was quite content with the way things were. At least she kept telling herself that.

She sighed heavily, and pushed her body closer to his, his muscles stiffing at her touch, even in his sleep. Jordan let her hand wander across his chest and up to his face where her fingers slid along his cheekbone and up to his nose. As her fingertips danced down the edge of his chin, his arm shot up and grabbed her roving hand with his own. Woody's eyelids fluttered open, his soft blue eyes trying to focus on Jordan's pretty face. She looked like a pixie, an impish grin tugging at her lips and a mischievous glint cascading from her eyes. He smiled in return and pulled her head down, their mouths meeting in a tender kiss. A little too tender.

"Hey," she whispered, pulling back, stopping it from ever even starting.

"Hey yourself," he said.

Woody adjusted the pillow beneath his head and propped his arm underneath. At this moment he didn't think he'd seen Jordan more beautiful. Her long, dark hair was rumpled from their earlier encounter, her cheeks were flushed an adorable pink and her lips were smudged with lipstick that had been carefully applied just a few hours before. Practically begging to be kissed…which reminded him. Woody once again placed his lips upon Jordan's, a more probing and passionate kiss this time. He had read the message loud and clear when she had stopped the other one.

Woody would try play by her rules as long as it meant having her. Knowing Jordan, as he did, she probably didn't even fathom that he had so much as a clue to the invisible barriers that she had set up. But right now, with her here, none of that mattered. His finger hooked the strap of her tank top and slipped it down her shoulder when a loud, shrill ring erupted through the apartment.

"Is that mine or yours?" he asked with a moan.

"Yours."

Woody rolled over with a dejected look stamped on his handsome features and reached for his cell phone on nightstand.

"This is Hoyt," he greeted in a gruff tone. "Congress Street? Yeah, sure. I can be there in ten."

He flipped the phone shut and flung it onto the bed. Leaning over he placed a light kiss on Jordan's throat, before climbing out of the bed and pulling on his pants.

"Possible homicide on the Congress Street Bridge," Woody explained as he continued to dress.

"Suppose I should get a move on too then," Jordan replied, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and picking her woolen sweater off the floor.

"Are you on call tonight?" he asked. "Because, I have to say that I wouldn't mind coming back home to this."

Jordan turned her head and smiled at him. He was such a Boy Scout and she could almost love him for it.

"Well, Hoyt, sorry to disappoint, but I am on call," she began. "And even if I weren't Woody, I think it'd be about time for me to leave anyway."

Woody nodded slowly and gave a small sigh. He sat down beside her on the bed and let his hand drop to her bare thigh.

"Sometimes I just think it would be nice to have you around more. I mean, sure, we have this whole secret rendezvous thing going on. And I know through work we see each other a lot, but the idea of you already here is kind of appealing."

"Woody—" Jordan placed her hand over his and prepared to give him a speech that she had rehearsed in her head, many times should it ever come up. But he interrupted her before she could even get past his name, which was thankful as her mouth had gone dry.

"Of course it helps that right now you're half naked. Actually, I might prefer completely naked," Woody laughed lightly. "On second thought, I know I do."

He stood and gave her one last reckless kiss, then grabbed his coat.

"So much for that Boy Scout theory," she murmured.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," Jordan dismissed with a shake of her head. "Look, I have my car, so I'll just meet you there, okay?"

"Sure. You know where the keys are. Just lock up when you leave," he told her, closing the door behind him.

Jordan's cell phone rang just moments after he left, the annoying little ditty that Sidney had programmed into it, buzzing loudly.

"Cavanaugh," she answered. "Over the Ford Point Channel, the bridge…alright. Sure, I'll be there in a few minutes."

**Congress Street Bridge.**

**2:34 am.**

Dangling from the edge of the bridge, wet from the rain, the body swung freely about. He was quickly hoisted up above the railing, where gloved hands inspected every inch of both him and the crime scene.

"Victim is one Aaron Reilly, thirty-two years of age," Woody read aloud from the brown, leather wallet a uniformed officer handed him.

"Wonder just who he pissed off?" Jordan questioned.

"Already ruling it a homicide?" he asked. "Maybe the guy was just really depressed. It's not uncommon you know."

"Not every depressed person hangs themselves from a bridge. If they did, the world wouldn't have a population problem," Bug stated. He then let out a noisy sneeze and wrapped his scarf closer around his neck. "Damn Boston weather."

"Says the man who lived in Liverpool," Jordan commented with a raised eyebrow. "Well, let's get Mr. Reilly here to the morgue and find out the truth. Shall we?"

"Anything to get out of this rain," Bug said as he shuddered from the harsh wind that suddenly blew. "I've been had this thing for over a week now. Ah, what I'd give to be back in bed."

"Can't argue with you there, man," Woody agreed. He smiled broadly and lightly smacked Bug with his notepad.

"Why, have someone waiting for you there Detective?" Bug inquired, wiping his increasingly red nose with a tissue.

"Yeah, Woody, somebody keeping that bed toasty for you?" Jordan asked, with a lopsided grin.

"Why Jordan? Jealous?" he sneered slightly, but then winked slyly at her.

"Who me? Don't flatter yourself Woody," she replied.

"Well, actually there is somebody, but I'm thinking of sending her packing. Girl is annoying as hell," he said.

"Oh, really?" Jordan questioned.

Banter was always safe ground between the two. If they bantered enough, people naturally assumed that there was sexual tension involved. Tension that had yet to be relieved. So, they kept it up for appearances sake and assumed no one was the wiser.

"Come on guys," Bug waved his hand in a vague direction. "Let's get going. Sooner we leave, sooner we get home."

"The man is a pillar of wisdom, I tell you," Woody remarked walking towards his vehicle.

"Oh, yeah, it just spews out of him," Jordan nodded and opened the door to her own car.

"I have a common cold, I'm not deaf!" Bug yelled from the other side of the bridge, while loading the body into the back of the morgue's van. "And that begs the question as to why _I _am the one doing the hard labor."

Jordan smiled to herself and started her El Camino. Or she would have started it, if the engine would have turned over. Instead it idled and then choked. She pumped the gas and tried again. But it only made a low rumble, sputtered and stopped.

"Shit," she cursed beneath her breath.

"Having some trouble there Jordan?" Woody questioned with a grin, pulling his car up next to hers.

"No, I'm fine. It just needs a little lovin' that's all," she told him and tried to start it once more.

"Don't we all?" he asked.

"It's probably just the weather," Jordan decided, stepping out of the El Camino. She roughly shut the door behind her, slamming it just right, so it would actually close.

"I'll drive you," Woody offered.

"No, it's okay. I'll catch a ride back with Bug, not like it's going to go anywhere," Jordan shrugged and gestured to the area marked off with yards of police caution tape.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you there," she said and began to race to the van.

**Boston City Morgue, Crypt.**

**2:58 am.**

"Get this guy into Autopsy One, I want to get started as soon as possible," Jordan stated, pushing the gurney, with Aaron Reilly under the sheet, towards Bug.

"A little overenthusiastic are we?" he asked, blowing his nose into the wad of tissues that Jordan was wondering if now were a permanent part of his hand.

"Hey, you said so yourself. Sooner we get this done, sooner we all go home," she reminded.

"Shouldn't we wait for Woody?"

"Wait no longer," Woody announced. He walked towards the pair, his head down and flipping through his notes.

"I wasn't going to hold my breath," Jordan shrugged with a half grin.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he remarked in the same tone.

"Can we stop with the not so witty repartee and get this going? It was you mere moments ago who wanted to get this done and over with," Bug said impatiently.

"Yeah, just go ahead and I'll catch up in a second. I'm going to head over to the break room, I just don't function until I get my coffee," Jordan told him, already walking away and throwing a wayward glance in Woody's direction. "My brain just thrives on caffeine."

"You know Jordan, that's a good idea," Woody eagerly nodded and flipped his notepad shut, his heels nipping at hers.

"And once again, it's me stuck with all the work," Bug muttered, leaning into the gurney. He began to quickly wheel it to Autopsy One, mumbling and cursing the entire way.

"Doing a great job Bug, really!" Jordan called over her shoulder.

"Thank me later!" he shouted back.

**Boston City Morgue, Lily's Office.**

**3:07 am.**

Lily sat quietly at her desk one hand scribbling reports, the other winding a long strand of red hair around her finger. She scratched out the last word she wrote and placed the pen down on her desk before closing her eyes.

"Lily?" a voice questioned from the hall. Nigel, seeing her still in her office at such a late hour, stopped and then stepped inside. "Burning the midnight oil love?"

"Hi Nigel," she smiled softly. "I have a bunch of forms I have to fill out and I figured I'd just get a head start."

"Some work ethic," Nigel commented.

"I just couldn't bring myself to go home today," Lily admitted, with a frown.

"Ah," he nodded and sat his lanky frame atop her desk.

"Question should be, why are you here? I thought you leave for your vacation tomorrow," she crinkled her brow.

"I do, just left some things here that I might need for the trip," he explained and gestured to the box of things that sat in front of her door.

"A safari in Africa. God that sounds exciting!" she exclaimed and leapt to her feet to inspect the box. Then she added at the amused look of Nigel, "I need some excitement and therefore am living vicariously through you."

Lily knelt down and began to pull various items out of the box.

"Are you sure you're going on vacation? A lot of this look likes work to me…" she told him with a curious expression, holding up a rather heavy looking microscope.

"Well, you know what they say, 'All play and no work…'" Nigel paused and shook his head. "Or is it, 'All work and no play'?"

"Is _this _for play?" Lily asked, in her hands something that definitely wasn't work related.

"That? That…" Nigel stuttered, making a grab for the article of clothing.

"That is a Victoria's Secret Angel Bra," she said with a tilt of her head. "I must say, I never thought that—"

"Well, it's not mine!" he proclaimed.

"Wasn't even entertaining the idea that it might be," Lily bit her lip, trying to suppress the giggle that was forming at the back of her throat. "But since it isn't yours, may I ask how it got in the box? Or exactly what use it would serve on an African safari?"

"None I suppose," Nigel said. "In fact, it happens to belong to…shall we say a lady friend of mine."

"Answer my first question," she challenged, the bra still dangling from her finger at the strap.

"It was left here, by said friend," he told her.

"Oh really? And just what were you and said friend doing that required removal of intimate apparel?"

"I think I might leave that to your imagination pet," Nigel replied with a smile grabbing at the item.

"Who would have thought?" Lily grinned and let out the laugh she had been holding back.

"Well, I should get home. With my flight in the morning and all," he leaned over and kissed Lily lightly on her cheek. "Promise that you'll miss me."

"You know I will," she told him and wrapped him in a hug.

Nigel picked up the box, tossing the Victoria's Secret Angel Bra on top and began to walk out of Lily's office.

"Have fun!" she said with a wave.

* * *

Here are the challenge rules/guidelines. I haven't met them all, but well, like I said, it's not finished. And I'm so sorry, but for the life of me, I can't remember who posted the challenge initially, but credit goes to them :)

1. It has to be at least 1500 words long.  
2. It must have Jordan paired with someone. Doesn't have to be Woody...can be whomever your dream about.  
3. Must involve her El Camino breaking down and unable to get parts to fix it.  
4. Has to have a Victoria's Secret Angel Bra  
5. Some character has to use Jessica Simpson's Body Desserts.  
6. Plot must involve a homicide by hanging.  
7. There's a loose cat running around  
8. Someone must have a cold.  
9. Nigel has to be getting ready to go on vacation to a safari in Africa.  
10. There's got to be one song that keeps running through everyone's head. And it can't be Blue Moon or Spirit in the Sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **As stated previously, I hold no claim to _Crossing Jordan. _I do hold claim to Jerry O'Connell, but alas I don't have it in writing, meaning it's not even remotely close to legal, just the word of a crazy lady.

That and the song lyrics in this chapter are quite obviously not mine either.

**Author's Note: **So here's the second chapter in all its glory. Oh, and excuse the lame summary (though if you're reading this, you might not have thought it was all that lame, hmm…). It's sort of late at night, and I've always sucked at summaries. I know, excuses, excuses. Anyway, enjoy!

**Boston City Morgue, ME's Break Room.**

**3:19 am.**

"Nice line with the coffee thing there," Woody nodded, his hand already tangled in Jordan's hair and his lips already pressed to her neck.

"Who said it was a line? You've seen me without caffeine and it is far from pretty," she replied.

"Jordan, you have _got _to be kidding me," he pulled back and sighed.

"Oh, relax," Jordan patted his cheek affectionately.

"You could kill a man Jordan, sincerely," Woody told her, joining her in the search for Styrofoam cups.

"Trust me, there are days when I'd like to. You specifically," she jested.

"Come on Jordan," Woody sighed again.

"Woody, you knew when we got into this that—" she began to remind him.

"Yeah, I knew it then and I know it now."

The cups were found as well as the coffee, which percolated slowly in the Mr. Coffee maker, the noise from the drip seeming to encompass the silence. From time to time, the situation would turn into a mildly serious discussion that neither of them quite knew how to deal with. Especially when it seemed like feelings were getting involved.

"Remember it was you who started this whole mess," Woody said after the silence was too much to bear.

"And remember you were more than willing," she responded.

"Yeah, but think about for what reasons Jordan," he shrugged, sadly. It was harder play by her rules, when he wasn't supposed to know about them.

"Well, do you want to call it off? I mean, it was never a permanent thing," Jordan offered, trying to think sensibly with her head, rather than her heart.

"Is that what you want?"

"Don't answer questions with questions Woody," she instructed, shaking her head.

"Fine," he said flatly.

"Fine? That's it? Just fine?"

"I don't know what you want me to say Jordan," Woody moved closer to her, his hand once again finding its way up to weave through her hair. "I don't know what you want me to say and I don't know what we're doing here, but I _do_ know that I—"

Woody's sentence was cut short by the interruption of Lily backing her way through the door, singing loudly and off key.

"…his kiss is sweeter than an apple pie. And when he does this crazy, rockin' dance, man, I haven't got a chance. I call him—" Lily turned around at that moment and saw the pair, who broke apart rather quickly, staring at her. She clutched her chest and let out a shaky breath. "You guys scared me half to death! What are you doing here?"

"Possible homicide in Autopsy One," Woody said. "That was some performance. 'Lollipop', an old favorite of mine."

"I didn't think…the song was on the radio. I-I didn't know anyone would be in here," she stammered, beginning blush.

"You know I could never do that pop thing at the end," Jordan stated. "I always ended up fish hooking myself, you know." She then placed her finger inside her mouth and pulled.

"No, you have to kind of puff out your cheek. Like this," Woody explained. He then demonstrated, his resulting in a loud 'pop'. "My friends and I used to sing that all the time back home."

"Right," Lily nodded. "So, possible homicide and you guys are…?"

"Oh, making coffee," Jordan pointed to the coffee pot. "Sustenance."

"Coffee which is actually ready," Woody observed and poured two cups. "We should probably get back to Bug anyhow."

"Is Bug here?" Lily inquired. "I'll go with you, I need him to sign some forms."

"Should we bring a peace offering of coffee for leaving him?" Jordan asked.

"Maybe Lily could just serenade him," Woody suggested with a smile.

"Coffee it is," Lily decided.

**Boston City Morgue, Autopsy One.**

**3:41 am. **

"Took you guys long enough, grind up the beans yourself?" Bug asked, lifting his face shield.

"Sorry Bug," Jordan apologized and handing him a cup of coffee.

"It's alright. But if you really want to make up for it, you could get into some scrubs and help me out here," he replied, placing the cup on the table next to him and pulling down his face shield.

Jordan smiled another apology and left the room to change, Woody noticeably following her out of the room. Both Lily and Bug exchanged a questioning glance, but shrugged it off.

"Bug, I need you to sign off on this. It's a—" Lily began but was cut off by the loud slap of the door.

"Here, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty."

Lily looked down to see Detective Matt Seely, currently crawling on the floor of Autopsy One.

"Oh, right," Bug raised his hand, mid-incision, the scalpel waving around in the air. "We have a visitor, I almost forgot," he deadpanned.

"Why hello Miss Lebowski," Seely greeted her.

"I'd ask, but I'm afraid to," she commented with a smirk.

"I seem to have misplaced a cat," he informed her.

"You really don't have the best luck with that, do you?" Lily asked.

"No it wouldn't appear so," he agreed. "I already begged for help from your esteemed colleague here, but he says he doesn't recall seeing a cat. And isn't exactly willing to help in the search."

Seely shook his head and stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees and coat. Bug, too, gave his head a shake and resumed with the autopsy of Aaron Reilly.

"Chasing after felines isn't in my job description," Bug announced, finishing the incision.

"Okay I give," Lily said. "Exactly what is a cat doing running around the morgue?"

"It's the reason I'm busting my balls at such an ungodly hour. Came in with the family of my vic earlier this evening. Guess it got lost it the commotion or something. I didn't even notice it was missing until the girl's family wanted the thing," he told her. "Anyway, as always my ass is on the line and will be fried if I don't find it."

"I fail to see where that would be a problem," Bug stated.

"Yeah, well," Seely seethed.

"Look, I'll help you," Lily conceded. "Bug could you just sign this before you leave?" She put the papers down in front of him.

"You're seriously going to go run around after this cat?" he queried.

"Well, what's the other option? It stays lost here?" she asked, one hand set upon her hip.

"Shouldn't Boy Wonder clean up his own mistakes?" Bug questioned.

"Thank you Lily," Seely replied ignoring Bug.

"I want to make it clear that I'm not doing this for you," she warned, pointing a finger at him and glancing over at Bug.

"Gotcha," Seely answered.

"Here kitty," Lily began calling.

**Boston City Morgue, Employee Change Room. **

**3:53 am. **

"We never did get to finish our talk back there," Woody informed Jordan, leaning up against a set of lockers while she changed into her scrubs.

"Well, when Lily interrupted us, I don't think you had your mind set on talking," she said with a sly smile.

"Be that as it may," he began, the corners of his own mouth creeping up into a grin. "It would be kind of nice to know what we're doing here."

"What, like here in the morgue?" Jordan asked, her face screwed up with mild confusion.

"Yeah, like here in the morgue," Woody nodded with a smirk.

"Okay, I get it. No need for the sarcasm," she held her hands up in mock surrender.

"Why do we keep doing this?" he asked.

"Doing what?"

"This," Woody stressed pushing his shoulder away from the lockers, so he was standing upright. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and then pulled them out, unsure of what he should be doing with them.

"Woody, speak in full sentences," she told him.

"Why do we keeping doing this to each other? Why do we keep hurting each other?" he questioned, his voice dropping to a low, saddened tone.

"I-uh…" Jordan stopped and licked her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair, she too, not exactly where to place her hands. They ended up on her hips, when she shrugged slowly. "Do you…do you think that's what we're doing?"

"Sometimes it feels like it," he admitted with a shrug of his own.

"What exactly do you want out of all this Woody?" she asked.

"You," he answered with a smile. "Only you."

"Woody—" she began.

"Yeah, I know," Woody nodded again. "See, maybe we're not hurting each other. Maybe it's just me."

"You who's doing the hurting or you who's getting hurt?"

"Jordan," he sighed. "I'm sick of pretending. I want this to be real."

"How is it not real?"

"Jordan, I never see you in the daylight unless it's pertaining to work. What kind of a relationship is that?"

She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"See…" Woody sighed again.

"Look, we'll figure this out later, right now I should really get back to Bug," Jordan told him, her words so rushed that they slurred together.

"Yeah, of course," Woody agreed. "I should probably head down to the precinct anyway."

"Good," she feigned a smile. "Then…later."

"Sure, later."

**Boston City Morgue, Crypt.**

**4:02 am.**

"So what's the, uh, deal with you and what's his name?" Seely asked, his eyes lifting from the floor to meet Lily's.

"What's his name? You mean Bug," she guessed, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"There's no 'deal' with Bug. Kind of like there's no 'deal' with you and me," she told him.

"Oh, really?"

"Exactly what are you implying?"

"Nothing," Seely said with a quick jerk of his head. "Just you know. You and I have had some…moments."

"Moments?" Lily repeated, her mouth hanging open in temporary disbelief after she spoke.

"You're telling me that not once have you thought about us, a vat of whipped cream and—"

"Please, whatever you do, do not finish that sentence," she ordered him.

"Alright," he shrugged.

"Here kitty," Lily called, resuming the search for the missing cat. "It might help if we knew the poor thing's name."

"Because that would make a difference," Seely agreed, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"You really don't have any sort of feelings do you?" she queried.

"What's that have to do with the name of some dumb cat?"

"Never mind," Lily heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Okay," he answered. "Maybe it says somewhere in her file or something," he suggested after a beat. "Yeah, actually I think I remember a mention of her taking it to the vet yesterday before she died. The thing was infected or had I don't know, it was sick."

"So, we're looking for a sick cat whose owner just passed away and we don't even know what to call it. At four in the morning…" Lily moaned and her fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Pretty much sums it up, yeah," Seely nodded.

"Well, where's the file?" she asked.

"I left it at the front desk. Or maybe in the autopsy room," he forehead crinkled as he thought.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Lily decided. "Cat's not here anyway."

The pair wordlessly got into the elevator, Lily making sure to distance herself from Seely. He could be a nice enough guy, but spend more than a few minutes with him and he could become downright nauseating.

"Hey, lick my hand," Seely instructed.

"Excuse me?" Lily asked with an incredulous look. "Could you _be _more repulsive?"

"Yes," he answered. "Lick my hand." Seely placed his hand, palm down, in front of her face.

"Detective, I'm sure you've attended more than your fair share of sexual harassment seminars, but did you ever actually retain anything?" she inquired. "Or have you ever heard of tact?"

"Fine," he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked lightly on his heels.

"God," Lily breathed, shaking her head.

The elevator doors opened and they both walked out, much as they had walked in. Silent. It was Lily who broke it.

"Okay, I'm developing a problem with curiousity," she said. "Probably because I've been spending too much time with Jordan, but what was all that back there?"

"Jessica Simpson's Body Desserts," Seely replied with a grin.

"What? I mean…what?"

"My hand," he further explained. "According to Ms. Simpson, it should taste 'dreamy'."

"Was licking it yourself out of the realm of possibilities?"

"Hey, I was just inviting you to partake," Seely shrugged and grabbed the file off the front desk, where he had indeed left it. "Cat's name is Whiskers, how imaginative."

Lily gave him a disapproving look.

"So, I think I can find the cat by myself," he said with a nod at the scowl that was beginning to grow on her face. "But thanks for all your help."

"See you around Detective," Lily shook her head and walked back towards her office.

"Right, you too," he called after her. "Here Whiskers, here kitty. Whiskers…"

**Boston City Morgue, Autopsy One. **

**4:13 am.**

"Hey Jordan," Bug nodded in her direction, holding up Aaron Reilly's hand. "What does this look like to you?"

Jordan stepped closer to Bug and the victim, leaning in to see what Bug was asking her to examine. Aaron Reilly's fingertips were slightly bruised, and there was dried blood around his nails.

"Looks like he was clawing at something," she guessed.

Bug removed a fiber caught beneath the nail on Reilly's index finger and placed it under the microscope.

"My bet is that this matches the rope that killed him," he stated. "Maybe he was grabbing at it, trying to free himself?"

"And go plummeting to a watery grave instead?" Jordan's eyebrow quirked as she asked the question.

"He could have panicked," Bug reasoned. "If it was suicide or if it was murder."

"Yeah, but his fingers would be more raw, not bruised," she told him. "It's almost as if he was grabbing something."

"The bridge?" Bug said. "Trying to climb back up?"

"Maybe," Jordan answered slowly. "But why?"

"Well, if it _was _suicide, he could have had second thoughts. Tried to make his way over the railing and back up," he suggested.

"And homicide, well I think that's pretty self explanatory," Jordan smiled. "Ah, but which of the two?"

"I think that's what we're supposed to figure out," Bug nodded.

"Hey, what's this?" Jordan asked him, and ran a gloved hand over Aaron Reilly's left wrist.

"Residue from some sort of glue," he told her. "Tape?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Same with the right. Nothing on the insides of his wrists though."

"They were taped together."

Bug lifted Reilly's arms and held the two hands together, the palms facing in. The tape residue only visible on the outer side of his wrists. He put Reilly's arms back down and frowned.

"So why would his wrists be taped together?" Jordan questioned. "Unless, of course it was to restrain him."

"Could be," he answered with a frown. "When he was pulled onto the bridge, were his wrists taped?"

"No, I don't think so." Jordan walked over to the computer where the crime scene photos had been digitally uploaded to confirm. She pointed to the screen. "Clean as a whistle."

"What about his ankles?" Bug moved towards Reilly's lower body. His ankles seemed to be free of the tacky film that was on his arms. "He's kind of a big guy. How would somebody throw him off a bridge with a rope around his neck if he was mobile?"

"Maybe he wasn't mobile," Jordan supplied. "Did you run tox yet?"

"Yeah, right here," Bug handed her the printout.

"Acetaminophen, Pseudoephedrine Hydrochloride," she read from the sheet. "High levels of Dextromethorphan."

"Cold medicine," he informed her. "I've been downing the stuff like water."

"He also had Diphenhydramine in his system."

"Isn't that commonly found in sleeping pills?" Bug asked.

"Yeah. Think we just confirmed if he could hold his own or not. Enough of this stuff in his system and he'd be more than a little tipsy."

"So he was drugged and hung from a bridge?" Bug concluded with a shrug.

"Hell of a way to go, huh?"


End file.
